


The Time Passed In Exile

by letitrainathousandflames



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clone Angst, Other, and echo is broken both in his body and his mind, and maybe just maybe, but together they can lean on each other, dogma and fives are very damaged by the war and the betrayal they've both been through, move on and be happy, share their grief and their anger, this is a friendship/building trust/sad yet hopeful fic, this is not a clonecest fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-11 09:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12932013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitrainathousandflames/pseuds/letitrainathousandflames
Summary: Having their deaths faked and their identities taken, ARC Trooper Fives and the clone trooper Dogma try to live in exile on a planet of the Outer Rim, away from everything they've ever known and trapped to a lonely existence. Things change when Rex brings another runaway trooper to live with them, Echo, a close brother to Fives' whom everyone had believed to be dead. The three clone troopers are broken and scarred by the war. Will they be able to help each other back in their feet? What is it of a soldier who cannot fight anymore?





	1. So What If Healing Takes Forever?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deepseaCritter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepseaCritter/gifts).



The tides are high today. The ruins facing the ocean are long forgotten by the locals – noting to see but worn-out walls guarding a moss-covered house that nobody ever had become interested in. It was too far off, away from the capital city and with a far too difficult access. The terrain was unstable, and a speeder or an actual military walker might be needed to climb the steep way. Not even the troublesome teens would bother try getting there, for it was too much trouble just to spray some graffiti over an old building.

Nobody knows, however, that the place is actually inhabited. The roughed up exterior hides a home that smells like freshly-baked bread and wildflowers (a bush full of them grows near the vegetables being grown in the backyard) and the walls are painted teal-green. The decoration is simple and leaves no clue of what kind of people live there aside from the bes'bev leaning on a wall and the password-locked datapad on the small dinner table. There are three chairs placed around the table, but one of them is covered pants and shirts of the same black uniform while only the remaining two seem to be in use.

The backyard’s wall close to the meiloorun trees has an old, rusty target hanging there, blaster burns so deep on its center the next shot might just pierce the thing through. And much ahead on the deck against which the tides are crashing, there is a man looking over to the sea. The man has a large scar on his temple and its pinkish, lighter skin different from his darker tan, and his brown eyes are lost in the waves’ movement. The waves go back and forth, back and forth. Crashing against the deck. Crashing. Spraying. Exploding. _Like that explosion back in…_

He shakes his head. No. Remembering never did him any good.

He thinks about maybe shooting a little on the target. He misses the action, misses shooting. Then he thinks about maybe watching one of those holo-vids for the billionth time. The mere thought makes him scrunch his nose in annoyance. He can always play a holotable game. He snickers, remembering back in the day when he was just a kid and he’d be awake late at night playing with…

_No, please. I don’t wanna think about him. Not today._

The man is dressed in plain black clothes, but there is a piece of what looks like a white armor on his right arm. The armor is dented, scratched and clearly has been through a lot in its lifetime. Something that he hasn’t seen in years happens: the light on the blue panel close to his wrist lights up, and a sound like static comes through it.

The man jumps upright, and he who seemed like an farmer who’d never left his fruit trees' side in his life suddenly has the posture of a soldier. He clears his throat as his eyes examine the comlink, and he whispers tentatively:

“Sir?...”

There is silence. Not a single word, not a single sound but static. The man knits his brows, poking the comlink. Damn old thing must be picking up interference. Of course they  wouldn’t call him. There’s no reason they would. The man runs his hands through his black hair, which has grown long and untamed as his goatee that now is a full beard like one of the Generals he’d served under. He has tried tying his hair up in a bun but then he saw himself in the bathroom mirror he almost screamed at the resemblance he’d share with his younger brother. That day, he’d punched the mirror until his knuckles were bloody and the glass was ground to bits. He hates mirrors now.

The man had a name before, when his brothers were still alive and his life seemed to have meaning, to have purpose. He was part of something big, something meaningful. He had a family, countless brothers who shared his face and his genetic code.

Before all this, the man’s name was Fives. And whatever this story turns out to be, it feels like an epilogue of a badly-written tale.

Another man walks out of the house up to Fives. He had the same face and wore the same black clothes, the same arm guard only on his right arm just like him. His face was scarred like Fives’, but not on his temple - lighter spots dusted over his face like freckles on a large V-shape, as if deliberate laser shots had been used to erase what before had been a tattoo. The man had been the first clone to ever come to live in this planet, in this house. He tugged on the cuffs of his shirt to then walk to Fives’ side, looking at the crashing waves.

“Made some bread.” he said “Milk’s almost gone, we gotta milk the bantha.”

Fives hummed in response, and he kept watching the waves. Fives had been living together with him in hiding for the past six months, and the other man had been living there a year prior to that, and yet, they didn’t talk much. It was hard getting the Fives to talk. He’d most unexpectedly turn aggressive, never physically violent but he would scream and curse, he would slam doors, he would empty his blaster on the target outside and sometimes he would just scream at the ocean as if he cursed it.

“Will do. Can I ask you a question…” he drew in a breath, turning to the other man “…Dogma?”

Dogma nodded. He was averse to talking too. In fact, his voice would be raspy whenever Fives would hear it. Dogma would spend most of his days playing his bes'bev and baking – he used to be terrible at first, but grew very good at cooking. Unlike Fives, he kept his crew cut and shaved on a regular basis. He needed the order, needed to look proper. He’d lost so much but if he lost the appearance of a soldier, he felt like he might lose his mind too.

Not that he haven’t already, but still.

“What is it?” there it was, his voice raspy as usual

“I think my comlink rang.”

Dogma nodded sharply.

“Mine did too. Coincidence?”

“Hardly.” Fives frowned “He must be trying to reach us.”

“But why would he?”

“No idea. He said he’d never come back. Ordered us to lay low. I have no idea why he’d risk talking to us.”

“Maybe… Maybe things were cleared out.” Dogma said, his eyes slowly moving from one side to the other “Maybe we can go back.”

Fives tried to let out a laugh but it came out as a snarl.

“Go back? Not gonna happen. Look what they did to us.”

Fives turned his back on Dogma, and Dogma says:

“I got the radio to work. We can get some transmissions from the local outpost, stay sharp, keep an eye out for any progresses on…”

“We are _not_ listening to shinies talking about whatever boring shit they do on this wasteland.” Fives snapped over his shoulder “We are not getting involved. It’s over, Dogma, we are no longer troopers. Get over it. I did.”

Fives ran his hand over his chest. He could still feel the uneven spot on his sternum where the blaster shot had hit his reinforced plate under the armor. As a last minute resource back at the 99, Kix had given him the untested armored clothing designed by Kix himself, for him to wear under the uniform. It was the only thing that saved his life. Once after Rex got Fox and his men to leave, and asked General Skywalker for time with his fallen brother, he talked in hushed whispers to the soldier who pretended to be dead. As Kix got in the scene, he pulled his best grieving face as he placed Fives on a stretcher carried by droids and he looked at Rex in a silent begging: help me out.

And Rex did. Kix made the “autopsy” on another dead brothers whose temple he’d quickly inked with a number five tattoo, as he’d later scrap off the superficial flesh of Fives’ forehead on the same spot, disfiguring his tattoo. And just like they had done a year prior to that with Dogma, Fives was registered as dead. Details of his file showed him as a victim of the virus-induced paranoia that had killed Tup, shot dead by a trooper trying to protect the Republic. His chest had been badly injured by the close range blaster shot nonetheless, and he would have breathing issues for the rest of his life.

Still, he was alive. That was more than Hardcase, Tup or Echo had ever gotten.

Fives got back into the house and dropped sitting on the couch with a long sigh. Dogma followed him, leaning against the doorframe, his features darkened with the contrast of the sun that poured in from behind him.

“Are you alright?”

“Am I ever?” Fives asked angrily as he rubbed his chest still

“You can’t just accept to be forever stranded in this hellhole, sir.”

“Will you cut out the kriffing “sir” shit already?” Fives’ voice was louder now, angrier still “We are not soldiers anymore, Dogma, we are just two men trying not to die anytime soon even if life sucks, even if every day looks exactly like the one before, even if we should be dead but aren’t, even if everyone we ever cared about-- Shit…”

Fives ran his hand over his face. Dogma just pushed all his fucking buttons, the whole posture gist, the whole protocol crap. He didn’t need any of this shit. He didn’t want it. Dogma stared at him in silence for a full minute before walking inside, picking up his bes'bev and sinking down on the opposite chair, hitting a few notes of the Vode An melody at it. Fives frowned to then abruptly get up and storm out to the backyard once again, slamming the door on his way out. Fuck Dogma. Fuck Dogma and his stupid bes'bev and his stupid formal addressing and his stupid _face,_ Fives’ _own goddamned face_ as well.

He picked up the blaster hanging off a nail on the wall and walked away from the target, taking his aim. He drew in a breath, and his chest felt tight. It hurt. He gritted his teeth, imagining the Rishi Eel that had killed Cutup and he pulled the trigger. Dead on center. He tought of the clanker that had killed Droidbait. Dead on center again. He thought of the clanker in the tank, the one who’d exploded Echo in front of him and he screamed between his clenched teeth, shotting it dead on center again. He kept shooting, and he kept thinking, and he kept screaming. Hardcase. Waxer. All the men killed in Umbara because of Krell. Tup. The ammo was long over but he kept pulling the trigger, the empty clicks echoing in his ears louder than the blaster shots. He dropped the weapon, running his hands over his head and the tightening in his chest seemed to only worsen.

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

“Jareor jetiise!” he snarled, turning to face the ocean where the sunlight glimmerd over the waters “kaminii haar'chak! Shabiir alor!” he spat on the ground “Fuck, fuck! I’m a _fucking idiot_!”

His breathing was shallow now, ragged in his dry rage. He heard the door creaking open followed by Dogma’s footsteps approaching and fuck no, he was not in the mood to deal with his accepting crap.

“Cursing the Jedi, the Kaminoans and the Chancellor is a good change of pace, but you’re still cursing yourself.”

Fives did not look over his shoulder, but Dogma’s voice was close enough for him to know the brother was right behind him.

“I do not want your self-help crap, Dogma, now _will you shut your kriffing mouth for once?!”_

 _“_ It was not your fault, Fives.”

“I’m telling you to shut up.” Fives’ voice is controlled but has a warning to it

“You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“You are always so quiet, and then there are these days in which you just won’t shut up, will you?”

“Just talk to me. Maybe I can help. Maybe… Maybe you can help me.”

Fives balled his hands into fists.

“This is your last kriffing warning—”

Dogma reached for his shoulder.

“You never told me what really happened to Tup.”

Krack! Fives spun around so fast Dogma couldn’t avoid the solid punch to his jaw, staggering back with a grunt. Fives grabbed Dogma by the front of his blacks, his face twisted in raw anger very close to his.

“Listen to me. _Kriffing listen to me._ ” he repeated as he’d shake Dogma by his collar _“_ We are outcasts, deserters, legally dead. Life is hell as it is, and so help me the stars, it’s not like I don’t think about jumping down to the rocks every single day, but you don’t have to make it even worse. Stay in your lane, Dogma. Just stay in your lane. Play your flute, do your meditation, make your goddamn breads and cakes but leave me the hell alone.”

Before Dogma could answer, the comlink on his wrist beeped, and a voice came through it:

“Doubt, do you copy?”

Rex. He was calling  Dogma’s codename. The only time this happened before was when he announced Fives’ arrival to their hiding spot. Fives let go off Dogma, and he hurryingly pressed the button on his arm piece.

“This is Doubt here.”

A sigh came from the other side.

“I’ve been worried when I tried to reach you earlier and failed, may have had some interference. Is Nine there with you?”

That was Fives’ codename, based on his former numeral name and his deceased sergeant from the Rishi Outpost. Dogma eyed Fives for a second before nodding.

“He’s here, sir.”

“Good.” said Rex “Stay put. I’m on my way there. And, Doubt… tell Nine I’m bringing a friend to see him.”

The transmission was cut, and Dogma looked at Fives still.

“Which ‘friend’ would that be?”

Fives shrugged, lowering his gaze.

“No idea. It’s not like there were many of them still alive.” he scratched the back of his head, exhaling sharply “Kriff. Hey, Dogma, I’m…”

“You’re sorry, I know.” Dogma sighs, turning back to the house “I was out of my place. I’m sorry too, I just… Just wanted to do something for you like you’ve been doing for me so often.”

Dogma had recurring nightmares every other night. Tup used to have them too, would wake up in a cold sweat saying he’d seen himself doing horrible things. Fives had researched – something he’d learn from Echo – through datapads and even asking the Jedi about techniques to keep bad dreams at bay. Even commander Tano, bless her, had gotten him a book on anxiety taken straight from the Jedi library. Thanks to that, he knew a lot of breathing exercises, several techniques to cleanse one’s thoughts and, as General Skywalker had taught him, soothing mantras to steer one’s mind towards a peaceful sleep. These had been specially useful to Dogma as they’d lay in their beds to sleep and he’d writhe and whimper and cry in his sleep and wake up terriefied; Fives would calmly say “your intrusive thoughts are not who you are. Your mind is playing tricks on you. Take hold of reality. You are not what you dream. Breathe.”

Fives shrugged, feeling even more embarrassed now as they walked inside, waiting for their former captain to arrive.

“Maybe I’m beyond help, brother. Just leave it as it is.”


	2. So What If Time Is Meant For Others?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex brings someone to Fives and Dogmas' hiding, and the two clones must face what has become of them through the war and their exile. Fives has to face his own anger issues and try to understand them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for cutting mention and a lot of self loathing and grieving... angst at its prime.

Fives went to the window seat, hesitating before he placed the helmet on his head. He’d always hated the goddamn bucket but wearing it now felt so right, like it was meant to be there, like a second skin, a layer of himself. He lowered his visors and peered out of a small opening he’d pulled in the curtains.

He sees the barren way downhill where the large glimmering insects common to this planet were flying like tiny little blue stars in the dark. The road up there’s gotten even worse now, and Fives was glad they had all they need to live up there – going down for supplies without a walker or another vehicle could end up being dangerous. Luckily none of them had ever needed medicines aside from the ones Rex had brought with himself when he’d brought Fives to live there. Fives had seen blood-stained bandages in the bathroom’s trashcan once but he never asked Dogma what had happened. It wasn’t any of his business anyway, and Dogma seemed fine. _Maybe he cut himself with his bes'bev, hell if I know._

Dogma, however, was still cutting his damn meilooruns methodically into little triangles. It was like Rex’s sudden visit had given his life a new meaning – he’d tidied up the living room, the bedroom they shared, cleaned the bathroom, finally got the pile of laundry hanging on the usually vacant chair into a large bucket outside to be washed, served his still-warm bread on the chipped white plates, poured the tea made of freshly-picked herbs in the small round cups and kept moving the cutlery two inches to the left and one inch up with some sort of nervous obsession. Fives looked away from the window for a moment, letting out a tense laugh.

“Hell, will you relax? We’re not having the Chancellor over.”

Dogma didn’t even raise his eyes from the table he kept fixing up.

“If we were, this tea wouldn’t be made of harmless mint leaves.”

There was something refreshing to seeing goddamn Dogma from the 501st carelessly talking about poisoning the supreme chancellor of the Republic, and Fives actually laughed at that.

“My, aren’t you just full of surprises.” he turned his gaze back to the window “Oh, wait. I think it’s him.”

There was a shadow climbing up the painfully steep hill up to their home disguised as ruins, mounting on a small walker, proper for two users. Behind there was another walker. One of them seemed to be carrying two people indeed. Dogma placed his helmet over his head too, looking out at the same crack Fives’ had been eyeing through.

“Republic walkers. Gotta be Rex.”

Fives growled, pushing Dogma out of his way as he got up.

“Put your armor on. I don’t trust anything from the Republic, not anymore.” He picked his blaster up from  the worn-out couch “And grab your gun. If they’re after us to kill us or arrest us, they got another thing coming.”

When Fives came out of the house to the front yard covered in tall glass and purposefully unkempt to give out the impression of an abandoned home, he pointed his blaster straight at the nearest walker’s pilot as he carefully and quickly set an old, alternating flashlight on the ground, where it gathered a few twinkling insects.

“Slow down, soldier.” he ordered, and the words flow easily from his lips. Being an ARC trooper Fives was used to issuing orders, and his brothers would obey without question “I got you in my aim. No sudden moves.”

The pilot let go off the controllers of his walker, raising his hands up. The man behind him did not do the same. Fives’ finger tensed up over the trigger. In the dark, he could but only merely make the clone trooper armor of the pilot, the large blue pauldron of a Captain’s over his left shoulder. He couldn’t, however, see any details or paintings on his helmet. This could be Rex. But it also could be an enemy, someone sent by goddamn Separatists to kill him, after all Fives was the only one who knew about all that mess with the chips.

Dogma joined his side, his gun pointing at the stranger in the other walker that approached them slowly. Fives was aiming straight at the soldier’s heart, right where Fox had shot him back in Coruscant.

“Tell your friend to put his hands up too unless you want me to shoot!”

The man with the Captain’s armor blocked Fives’ aim to the other trooper, who wore a plain shiny’s armor. There seemed to be something wrong with his arm. Why was the plating of his right hand and arm gold instead of white?

“It’s me, Fives, it’s Rex. He can’t put his arms up.” the Captain said, and his voice sounded like a clone’s, but anyone could hack in the modulator of their buckets, Fives thought tensely “He’s injured.”

“If you’re Rex” said Dogma equally tense “take off your helmet.”

The man lowered his hands very slowly towards his head.

“Very well. Everyone stay calm. I’m taking off my helmet.” He reached for his bucket under Fives’ and Dogma’s attentive eyes and, as he pulled the thing off his head…

“Rex.” Dogma sighed with a smile as the clone on the other walker slowly took his helmet off as well “Kix.”

Rex looked at Fives, who hadn’t lowered his blaster yet.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? It’s good to see you too again, Fives.”

_I’ll bring a friend to see you, Rex had said, and there was Kix. But…_

“Who’s the shiny?” Fives asked, and Rex climbed down from his walker, where the shiny remained immobile and Fives still had his blaster pointed at him “Who is he?”

Rex walked to fives, carefully  grabbing the muzzle of his blaster and lowering it.

“He’s the friend I mentioned.” he says enigmatically “But right now he’s still a little groggy, we had to drug him for the flight down here. Now stand down, soldier, and let’s get inside, away from any curious eyes or probes that might be hovering around, okay? It’s not like having you two living here is perfectly legal, and the same thing goes to him.” Rex points at the Shiny over his shoulder as Kix gets down his walker, running towards Dogma.

Fives looked up to Rex’s face, to his short blond hair and his brown eyes identical to his own; That was his Captain. Even having thousands of faithful copies of each other walking around, Fives could always recognize a brother and tell him from the others; this used to impress the shinies back in the day. Meanwhile, Kix had grabbed Dogma in a hug so tight it reminded him of the way Wookies would try to crush the bones of their enemies. And before Fives could protest, Rex did the same to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and slapping his hand on his back over the armor.

“I missed you, brother. The 501st isn’t the same thing without you.”

Fives slowly managed to lift his arms to hug his captain back, but he couldn’t stop looking at the armored shiny still sitting on the walker. He leaned in Rex’s hug however. He had no idea he’d missed his friend so much.

“I missed you too, Rex.”

* * *

Rex had to pull the shiny out of the walker and practically had to carry him to the house with Kix’s help. By the time they got in the cozy house, Fives could actually notice his legs and arm, all gold-plated; they were prosthetics, but he didn’t seem to be well accustomed to using them. _Kriff, what the hell had happened to this shiny to get him a damage of this extension?_ Furthermore, how he was still alive? If a clone walked into Kamino with three missing limbs, Nala Se would have him killed as if he were a mere defective droid – could you imagine the Republic wasting money on prosthetics for one of their tools of disposable lives, an expendable clone? Not likely, and not like them at all.

The shiny, however, seemed to be a little nervous as Kix eased him down on the couch mumbling:

“I’m good, I’m good.” There was something to his voice that sounded very familiar to Fives, and even if he wasn’t’ sure what it was, he felt a shiver run down his spine “Where’s Fives? Where is he?”

Kix looked at the table where Dogma had sit down at, his hand still on the trooper’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you hungry? We’ve been through a long way up here, and Dogma here has set a nice meal for us.”

Kix sounded like he was talking to a cadet. Nice and mellow, very friendly, full of tact. Fives frowned at Dogma, and Dogma just shrugged, as confused as he was.

“I don’t feel much hunger lately. Back when I was… They wouldn’t…” he fell silent for a moment to then repeat himself “Where’s Fives?”

 _That voice_ , Fives thought, _it can’t be. It’s impossible_. He pulled his own helmet out, walking to the shiny and pushing Kix’s out of his way by his shoulder to then place it on the couch beside the shiny.

“I’m Fives.” he said, and his heart hammered under his damaged sternum as he reached for the clone’s helmet, carelessly pulling it off his head “Now who the hell are you?”

He was met with a clone’s face, of course. Tall cheekbones, large nose, brown complexion, hazel eyes a little lighter than Fives’. His hair was really short, as if it had been recently shaved and had only started to grow back. That, however, was where the similarities stopped. His cheeks were hollowed and he was thin as if he’d been severely starved; there were scars all over his face and the right side of it clearly had been burned badly and now was a patchwork of scarred, lighter skin. The small cuts all over his face were clearly former shrapnel wounds. But even in this mess of a face, even in this man’s exhausted, confused and frightened expression, his eyes—

Fives stumbled back and gasped, dropping the shiny’s helmet and the thing landed on the floor with a dull thud as Rex walked up to him. Fives’ eyes went wide, and he covered his mouth with his hand as Rex held him by his shoulders.

“Is that…” he gasped as Dogma inches in closer to take a look at the scarred trooper “Is that…?!”

Rex nodded as Kix turned to face Fives with a grimace.

“Yeah, Fives.” He nodded to the mutilated clone whose eyes couldn’t be anybody else’s “That’s Echo.”

Fives gasped again, lowering his shaking hand to then reach for the trooper that cringed away, breathing fast in clear distress. Fives stopped halfway into reaching for his face to then turn to Rex, snarling:

“What kind of sick joke is this?”

Rex sighed and tensed up his jaw, looking into Fives’ eyes.

“I know it’s confusing, Fives—“

“Echo is dead.” Fives took a step towards Rex, standing less than a few inches away from his Captain “Dead! I watched that damn clanker explode him into nothing. I saw his helmet letting out smoke! He _died_ in that shuttle!”

Rex knitted his brows, grabbing Fives’ armored shoulders.

“I know.” he said assertively “I know, I saw it too. But they managed to get him out, the separatists, they captured him and… and…”

“And what?!” Fives yelled in the Captain’s face

Rex lowered his eyes, gesturing to Echo. His voice was still low and full of grieving.

“And they… did _that_ to him. They had been using him to access our strategies, our codes, our internal tactics, everything. We found him thanks to a signal he sent us. He was smart, Fives, thanks to that we found him.”

Fives’ eyes were wide, darting back and forth as he would shake his head in obstinate denial.

“How?... How did they get him to say it? He wouldn’t, not Echo.”

All troopers had training to resist torture until death. Even shinies, hell, even _cadets_ knew that nothing was more important than their mission. And ever since the cadets were alphabetized and able to understand concepts, the first one to be drilled into their minds was that they were expendable, that their lives were meaningless. They were weapons, tools, battle fodder. No trooper went down without a fight, but they accepted death as part of their duty. One of the living proofs of the trooper’s resilience was commander Wolffe, who had been captured by the separatists and never said a word, not even when they cut his eye out, not even as blood ran down his face like a river and he was barely conscious before General Koon got to him. Echo was made of the same brave blood. He wouldn’t open up to anybody.

Rex went very pale at Fives, and a tremor ran over his cheek.

“They...” Rex hesitated before continuing “they connected him to some kind of machine that had direct access to his brain. They opened his head up like a damn datapad.”

Fives frowned for an instant, trying to understand what the hell Rex had just said. He felt the blood draining out of his face and pushed Rex away from him.

“No. No way…”

Rex shook his head, biting his lip. He hesitated a couple of times before saying in a low, voice that Fives had heard him use more than once to talk to soldiers after they’d lost a close brother:

“He was put in a cryostasis chamber, Fives. For… For whatever’s worth, at least Kix believes he wasn’t in pain.”

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” Fives turned to face the man, that _shell of a person_ they’d brought him and said it was Echo “It can’t be. It can’t be…!”

Kix grimaced at Fives, while Dogma seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the scarred man sitting on their couch.

“It’s him.” Kix said “I ran all the tests, having the same DNA makes it difficult to identify a clone but it matched all his previous ones. A naturally lower sugar level. Some mild thyroid alteration. Ambidextrous. And when we got him back, before he managed to speak normally, he only kept saying…”

And as if they had rehearsed, the man grumbled:

“We need to get to that shuttle… We need to get to that shuttle… Fives… Brother…”

Fives looked at the man, and then to Rex. The captain shook his head.

“I’m so sorry, Fives.”

Fives walked to the clone very slowly to then kneel down in front of him, reaching up to touch his face. The clone’s widened, distressed eyes met his, and he knew it. This was…

“Echo…” Fives had said in a whisper “Echo, is… is that you?”

In sharp, erratic movements, Echo managed to lift up his left flesh hand up to Fives’ face, slapping his fingers over Fives’ scarred, clearer patch of skin where his tattoo used to be. He frowned at it to then scowl.

“You’re not him. Y-You look like… But… You’re not my brother. You’re not—“ his voice grew louder as did his distress “You are _not_ my brother!”

Kix opened one of the compartments on his belt and reached for a syringe filled with a clear green liquid, pushing Fives out of his way.

“He- Hey!” Fives exclaimed “What are you gonna do?!”

“He can’t get that worked up.” Kix said as he pierced the needle on Echo’s neck before he could react – if he could react at all with those stiff prosthetics “His state is still very fragile, his internal organs were almost in total failure when we got him back, he is… he’s a mess, Fives.”

Echo squinted angrily at Kix before his eyes became heavy and his neck dropped down in an instant chemically-induced slumber. Fives looked at Echo in utter horror, and ever since he’d been shot, his chest had never felt so tight.

* * *

It had started to rain outside, and Echo laid still on the couch after Kix had set him down. His prosthetic legs didn’t fit entirely in the two-sits furniture, dangling out. Fives couldn’t stop staring at them from the dinner table. They seemed too thin, too frail, all of Echo seemed thin and frail.

The clinking of a fork against a plate made him snap out of it as Kix said quietly:

“Good thing you have meilooruns. When he wakes up, he should eat something soft. He’s just gotten back to eating solids” he raised his eyes to Fives and gave him a tentative smile “he’s gotten really happy about it.”

Fives frowned, leaning against a wall as Rex, Dogma and Kix occupied the three chairs. It didn’t matter - he hadn’t eaten anything in hours but his hunger had been replaced by a dull feeling of nausea, so he wouldn’t need to sit to eat anything. The last time he’d felt like this had been when Tup pressed his blaster against General Triplar’s head and pulled the trigger in front of him.

“Is he… Does he even know who he is? He seemed so…”

“He has his moments.” said Rex, shoveling food into his mouth as if all he wanted was the sustenance it would provide and he couldn’t care less about how perfectly triangular were the meillorun piece cut by Dogma “He talks a lot about you. More than he talks about himself.”

“As you know” Kix began with annoyance in his voice “the clones don’t have any kind of psychological support so after asking back and forth to Jedi generals and professionals of the republic for guidance I started a psychology course about two years ago, to try and help my brothers.”

“With his salary.” Rex growled as he drank down his tea in one sip “Senator Amidala’s demand for free education was barred so, guess where all of Kix’s credits are going.”

“You are angrier at that than I am.” Kix said calmly as he pierced another piece of fruit with his fork “Anyway, I’ve been managing to get to him. There’s a right way to read his signs. Sometimes you need to give him space. The damage in his mind has a specific way to be treated, just as any physical wound does.”

At that, Dogma tugged on the cuffs of his blacks. Fives had noticed the habit, probably another of his damn obsessions for order and properness. Kix, however, eyed Dogma for a moment before he drank his tea.

“Dogma, I believe that Rex and Fives have a lot of catching up to do regarding Echo’s rescue and his arrival here today. What do you say about showing me around the place? Rex had only told me a bit of your little hideout and I’m curious.”

Dogma stuttered at the suggestion.

“Uh… I mean, sure, maybe the captain would like to join us?”

Before Rex could answer Kix got up, narrowing his eyes at Dogma.

“I would prefer if it were just the two of us. C’mon now.”

With a last look to Fives, Dogma got up and dropped his shoulders, walking out of the room. Fives sat on the chair he had been sitting, looking up to Rex. His voice came out hoarse even though he didn’t know why.

“How long did he stay with the seppies?” Fives asked.

Rex returned his gaze, drawing in a breath.

“Almost two years.” Five’s sighed painfully and he added “You couldn’t know. None of us could.”

“Should’ve come back for him.” Fives nodded, his face twisted in pain “I know he would’ve. He… Hell, he would never leave me behind to be tortured by those bastards. Some brother I am.”

“We saw his helmet, Fives, what else could we think?” Rex reached for Fives’ hand on the table, but Fives pulled away from him “I know you cared about him, we all did. But in that mess, it was run or die.”

“And he chose neither.” Fives snarled, shaking his head “He fought for us, stood his ground, all for… For nothing. For this rotten republic.” He looked at Echo’s small frame lying on the couch. “He was my closest brother. We were from same batch, born on the same day, placed in the same squad, domino squad. He said… He said he would die for me, and I said the same to him but in the end I couldn’t even…”

Fives clenched his jaw so hard his head hurt; He had failed Echo, left him behind to be mutilated and tortured by the seppies, spent his days wallowing in grief and self-pity while his brother was suffering. Rex leaned in closer to Fives, his voice low and assertive.

“Fives, you couldn’t know. An explosion of that size… We saw the fire, his helmet, we couldn’t imagine--”

“Should’ve gone back for his body” Fives murmured angrily between his clenched teeth as he’d shake his head “should’ve tried to at least bring it back to us but I was too kriffing afraid of what I’d see in there, then you told me to run…”

“Fives…”

Fives pounded his fist so hard on the table the cutlery clinked against the plates. His face was reddened and the lines on his forehead brought by his premature aging grew more evident in his tension.

“You told me to run and leave my brother behind, _Captain.”_ he spat “This is all your fault.”

With that he got up, ignoring Rex’s call for him and he stormed out, into the small corridor sided by the his bedroom door on his way to the backyard. And from the small crack opened on the room he shared with Dogma, he heard Kix’s low, concerned voice.

“—have to stop doing that, Dogma.”

Then came Dogma’s voice. Small. Quivering. Hesitant.

“I… I’m trying. I promise.”

“When did you started doing this anyway? I was your physician back in the 501st and I never noticed those before we faked your death.”

Fives peeked into the room, seeing Kix sitting on Dogma’s bed beside him, holding Dogma’s forearm. It was covered in small linear scars, some of them clearly recent. Two of them had only start to coagulate.

“It began after I shot Krell.” said Dogma in the same hesitant tone “After I was put in custody of the Republic. I couldn’t clip my nails in jail, and, and I’d scratch myself. Gave me a rush. I never could stop.”

Then it crossed Fives’ mind. The blood-stained rags and bandages he’d see every once in a while in the bathroom trashcan. _Shit._ Fives couldn’t see Kix’s face but he could hear the clear concern in his voice, as some pity he was probably trying not to let Dogma realize.

“I know, but stars, you could’ve hit an artery here. You’ve got to stop this.”

Fives just kept walking to the backyard. This was all too much for him to handle. Echo alive, all messed up in the head and mutilated. Dogma cutting himself. Rex being the reason for which Fives never went back to get Echo to safety. He practically ran out of the house under the pouring rain, reaching for the gun in his holster, the gesture so natural it was almost as if he were born doing it. The armor felt light on his body, the small grinding of his knee pads on his leg armor and his elbow guards on his arm pieces so familiar; he felt the cool night atmosphere on his face and he turned on his heel to face the target, already raising his blaster to aim at it when the gun merely let out a dry click at the pull of its trigger. He had forgotten he’d emptied the thing in his anger earlier, and he tossed the gun at the target instead, screaming his lungs out in rage and wiping his damp black locks away from his face.

His chest hurt even more now, and he coughed. His breathing was labored, painful, and Fives felt his entire self boiling with _rage and grief and guilt_ and as a coughing fit got hold of him he begged his goddamn damaged lungs to finally give in and let him die for once because this shit hurt too much, it never stopped hurting and it never would. Rex walked out of the house and rushed to him, slinging his arm over his shoulders as the rain soaked him over his armor.

“Fives, Fives, breathe. Your lungs—”

“Could kill me already for all I care.” Fives managed to spurt out between coughs and, when he finally managed to catch his breath he drove a punch to Rex’s ribs; the Captain let go of him, and Fives didn’t even feel bad for what he did, for he knew the armor would protect him “You caused this! This is all your fault!”

Rex tried to say something, but now that Fives could finally let his anger out, now that he finally let out the dark, monstrous shadow that only seemed to grow inside him ever since his exile in this godforsaken corner of the galaxy, he felt unchained off what little self-control he believed he still had.

“All your fucking fault!” he barked “You walk all proud with your captain rank and your captain armor and us? The little shinies under your charge? Dying by the dozens! Shot and blown up and electrocuted and _stars know what else!_ But the goddamn 501st captain is still alive and well, because we are all laying our fucking _lives_ down for him and his goddamn Jedi General!”

Rex looked at him as if every word hurt, as if every screamed insult was a knife to his guts, and Fives kept breathing hard through his mouth, his face so tensed up it hurt. Fives’ kept talking still, no matter how it felt like his lungs would collapse at any minute.

“And you… You carve your stupid _tally marks_ all over your goddamn armor like some kind of _display of honor_ , like you should be _proud_ of how many brothers died under your watch, like you should be proud of how we’re treated like _grenades_ to be thrown by the Republic, this is all your fucking fault! Say something!” he bellowed at Rex, his screams tearing at his raw throat.

The rain ran rivers on Rex’s face, infiltrating on his eyebrows and running over his full lips, dripping out of his nose and chin, and he shook his head just slightly, raising his voice above the storm that raged on.

“Why am I supposed to say anything? You’re right.”

Fives gritted his teeth, snarling. He wanted Rex to be angry, to scream back at him, to say _no, it was your fault, you let it turn out like this._ Growling like an animal, he lunged at Rex, grabbing him by his waist and throwing him down on the ground, where the mud stained his white armor. Fives was on top of the Captain now, cold rain running over his face and into his beard, dripping down his hair, and he drove a fist to Rex’s face, but the captain blocked it, grabbing Fives’ hand in a firm grip.

“You are not angry at me, brother.” he said as a bright lightning strike hit the ocean and thunder filled the air like war drums “And you know it.”

“Shut up!” Fives screamed as he punched Rex’s face with his free hand

Rex pulled him closer to then throw him to the side, climbing over the former ARC trooper and placing his forearm over his throat. He looked down to him with a calm face, the same one he had in Umbara despite the constant bombings and shootings, despite the growing number of casualties, despite what Krell did to them.

“You’re angry at the Republic!” Rex screamed as blood trailed down his lips and over his chin, washed away by the rain “You’re angry at the Kaminoans! You’re angry at the Separatists, at everyone, and yes, you are angry at me, but the one you’re the angriest at is yourself!”

“FUCK YOU!” Fives roared as he kicked frantically, trying to break free “FUCK YOU, WE NEVER ASKED FOR THIS, NONE OF US NEVER DID, I FUCKING HATE YOU AND I FUCKING HATE THEM AND THEY JUST LEAVE US FOR DEAD AND YOU LEFT ECHO FOR DEAD FUCK YOU FUCK YOU ALL!”

Rex got off of Fives, pulling him up by his armor into a hug and Fives didn’t understand why but his eyes felt hot with tears that the rain washed away; and as he felt Rex’s arms around him he also could feel his shoulder’s jumping softly with small sobs. This was enough to make Fives break down for once, hugging Rex back and finally allowing himself to cry.

“He deserved better…” he said weakly between sobs “He deserved…”

“They all did, Fives.” Rex said in a strange, strangled voice “And so did you.”


	3. So What Is Left But A Shatter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fives mends his relationship with Rex. Echo will now be living with Fives and Dogma. Echo needs to learn to live again, and Dogma is still having trouble with old habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for cutting, blood and medical horror mention. Check the end of the chapter for more notes.

In the end, Kix didn’t ask Fives and Rex why had they gotten filthy with grass and mud, or why were they soaked to their blacks under their armors. Rex excused himself to the shower and Kix guided Fives, already undressed off his armor to his bedroom and dressed now only on his dripping blacks, closing the door behind him.

“Where’s Dogma?” Fives asked as he reached for a towel in his dresser to dry his face and hair with.

“Keeping an eye on Echo while he eats.” Kix answered, opening a small box he’d brought with himself and that Fives hadn’t noticed until then.

Fives peeked over his shoulder to see it was filled with paints and brushes, and he raised an eyebrow as Kix grabbed a small, delicate brush that had a compartment inside it filled with black ink that would flow to its bristles as he’d squeeze its body.

“What’s all that?” Fives asked in genuine curiosity

Kix gave him a small smile.

“Echo is good at painting. Remember when he made that nose art of Senator Amidala on our ship and it drove General Skywalker crazy? So, it turns out that painting it’s one of the few things that actually relaxes him. It brings back memories, it calms him down, so make sure try and make him paint every once in a while. It’s good for him to get used to his prosthetic hand too.”

Fives shrugged, not understanding why Kix was looking intently at his face.

“Okay, sure, whatever he needs. Wait… Is Echo going to stay here?”

Kix nodded, his smile fading away.

“Rex had me state him as dead after his checkup. It wasn’t hard to make them believe he died on the way to coruscant, not in the state he’d arrived. No, Echo has to stay here with you guys.” He shrugged, running his finger over the paintbrush’s bristles “It’s not like he’s fit to get back in battle anyway. And he belongs by your side, Fives.”

Fives nodded, pressing the towel against his beard now.

“Yeah, you leave him to me, I’ll take good care of him. But what are you holding this brush for?”

Kix grabbed Fives’ jaw with his free hand, raising the brush to his face.

“A theory.”

* * *

Echo was eating the meiloorun bits slowly, his eyes looking at the opposite wall without really seeing it. He frowned at his now empty plate, turning to Dogma, who’d been sitting beside him until then.

“Can I eat some more?”

“Perhaps a little later.” Kix said gently as he left the bedroom followed close by Fives and helped Echo up to sit him back down on the couch “You can’t eat too much at once, remember? Your stomach’s still getting used to solids.”

Echo seemed annoyed as he sunk into the couch but he nodded, looking up to Kix.

“Yessir.” he then looked up to Fives standing in front of him, especially to the number five painted on his temple

Echo’s eyes went wide; he raised his flesh hand that trembled in the air and Fives crouched close to him until he could touch the number properly, and Echo’s voice came out like a whisper full of awe.

“Five. _Fives._ ” Echo frowned like someone trying to remember where they had put something they’d misplaced, and then his voice sounded more confident as he looked into Fives’ eyes “Fives. Fives. My brother.”

A wide, trembling smile spread through his lips and he tried to get up. His prosthetic legs whirred, and as he almost fell back down, Fives grabbed hold of him by his ribs, helping him stand. Echo didn’t looked away from his eyes the whole time, letting out a breathless laugh.

“My brother. Fives. Fives. Fives!” he hugged Fives tight, still trembling on his new legs and laughing out lout like he used to when O’Niner would reprimand Hevy over one of his silly misbehaviors “Fives!”

Fives hugged him back and yes, he was laughing too, but he was also crying. And as the two men swayed back and forth in a hug Fives never thought he would be able to give to the other last survivor of the Domino Squad he thought _Echo is alive. He’s alive!_

* * *

“…eat solids now, thanks to Kix here and a diet he made for me.” Continued Echo, as Fives listened attentively and Dogma cleaned the dinner table with Kix’s assistance “And the Captain, you have no idea, he found someone to get him a ship to take us here, ran over like, twelve regulations…”

Fives cheeks even hurt now. He hadn’t smiled for this long ever since Umbara, and hearing Echo’s voice was just amazing. The bathroom door swung open and Rex walked out, half-dressed of his armor and still clipping his pauldron in place. Fives looked up to him for a second to then turn back to Echo, and the Captain walked into the kitchen without a word.

“Never seen him talk this much.” he said to Kix, as the medic dried his hands on a dishcloth with a smile

“Me neither. Seeing Fives really did something for him.”

Dogma looked from Rex to Kix, clearing his throat.

“Who… Who is he? Fives never mentioned him to any of us.”

 _Not that the uptight Dogma sat down to talk to the other troopers during leisure time, or was invited to do so_ , he thought bitterly. Nobody would ever call him to go out for drinks. He pretended not to care, held his head high and pretended to be proud to stick to the rules and be always training and reading and learning to be a better trooper.

“Echo was Fives’ squadmate since they were cadets.” Rex said “Cody and I met the two of them and their other squadmate ‘Hevy’ in the Rishi Moon outpost. They were the last survivors, and after Hevy sacrificed himself to destroy a bunch of clankers…”

“Echo was his last squad brother alive.” Kix added “The two of them were promoted to ARC troopers after the defense of Kamino. The whole 501st looked up to Echo.”

Dogma scratched the back of his head, lowering his eyes.

“As they did Fives. I mean, Umbara was my first assignment but I could tell everyone there would follow Fives into hell if they had to. The minute he spoke up against K… Against that scum’s orders, everyone spoke up too.”

Rex leaned against the wall, nodding as he’d cross his arms.

“They worked amazingly well together; Echo’s attentiveness to the rules and protocol would steer Fives in place, but Fives’ boldness would make Echo step out of line every once in a while. I never worked with a better pair of ARC troopers, until…” he sighed “Until the seppies exploded a shuttle with him inside.”

“Oh.” Dogma eyed Echo over the counter “So that’s how...”

Rex twisted his lips in annoyance, checking the panel on his wrist.

“Fifteen minutes, Kix. We gotta go back before they find out I left Jesse with my spare armor and our medic trooper is missing.”

Dogma let out a laugh.

“Jesse is impersonating you? Now that’s amusing.”

Kix smiled.

“You have no idea. That time we did that to drop Fives here, everyone said 'wow Captain Rex is crankier than usual'”

* * *

In the end, Echo hugged Kix and Rex for the longest time, saying he would miss them over and over again. The group was standing outside as the rain subsided into an almost unnoticeable drizzle, Echo being half-supported by Fives for he didn’t feel entirely secure of his new legs.

“Why don’t you stay?” he asked as he let go of them “All of us, we could just stay here.”

Rex gave him a bitter smile waving his head.

“I can’t, Echo. I need to see this through.”

Kix patted Rex on the shoulder.

“And as long as he’s fighting by General ‘Madman’ Skywalker’s side, I have to make sure to patch him up so he actually _gets_ to see this through.”

“Oh, and by the way…” Rex walked fast back into the house; before Fives could ask him what the hell he was doing, Rex rushed out back to them “hope you don’t mind lending me some of your paint.”

Rex had taken off the glove of his left hand and had his palm and fingers covered on blue paint.

“What…?” Echo began to ask, and Rex pressed his palm against his chest piece, branding it with its shape

“Now it looks better.” Rex nodded, putting his glove back on

Echo looked down to the shape of Rex’s hand and let go of Fives, doing his best to stand without help, reassuring his friend he’d be okay to then stiffly raise his prosthetic to his temple in the best he could make of a salute. Dogma quickly imitated the gesture and Fives sighed, doing the same. Kix and Rex saluted them back, and Rex gave them a small smile.

“At ease, troopers.”

And as they lowered their hands, Kix and Rex turned to go back into their walkers. Fives bit his lip and then said out loud:

“Captain… Rex.” Rex turned back to him and the trooper exhaled sharply, cursing his pained lungs “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry. You are doing your best, I know you are, and it was an honor to serve under you, and I’m willing to continue to serve, so if you say the word, I’ll immediately--”

Rex placed his hand on Fives’ shoulder and that look in his eyes, that look that said that no matter how they all had the same faces and roughly the same voices and the same goddamn DNA he was looking at _you_ , at _who you were,_ made shivers run down Fives’ spine.

“I’m proud of you, Fives. I’ve always been, ever since Umbara, ever since Kamino. Back in Rishi Moon, I knew you and Echo would go far.”

Fives’ chest felt tight, but he believed that this wasn’t because of his damaged lungs, not this time. No, his heart was clenching in his chest, and his sight grew blurry with tears.

“Rex…”

“But you two went far enough, farther then you needed, and now I want you to live what’s left of your lives in peace. You did your duty. The mission is done. The nightmare is over.”

For all the time Fives had spent in his hiding, he never knew if Rex thought about his parting words, but now, listening to his own words he thought that maybe the whole mess with Fives and Tup had gotten to him, and he did care. And Fives blinked his tears away, looking up to Rex, and only then did he notice the small scar on his forehead.

“Did you get it out…?”

“Yeah, so did Kix. And Wolffe too.” For some reason he frowned, sounding spiteful then “But Cody didn’t. He’s a _man of the Republic_. Thinks you and Tup were insane.” He shook his head lightly, squeezing Fives’ shoulder “Forget about all that. Be in peace. These are my last orders to you, soldier.”

Fives nodded a few times, and after Kix and Rex climbed on the walkers and went down the steep path they faded away in the distance under the purplish light of the early dawn as Fives whispered:

“Yessir.”

* * *

It was all entirely new, having Echo live with them, and the house had changed a lot ever since his arrival too. The bedroom was a little cramped now with three beds, but none of them did mind. The pile of used blacks was no longer on the third chair of the dinner table – not only because Echo would sit there now, but because he would make such a speech on the importance of having a tidy home none of them would hear the rest of it if they left a shirt hanging in there.

On a formerly messy room that had been used as a deposit there were now many painted canvas, one of them still on its easel. Paint tubes are placed on a small table neatly organized on a rainbow’s order, lined up like a store display. The glass jars full of pinkish and blueish water would glimmer under the sunlight that poured through the window, and the many brushes were clean and ready for use.

The canvases usually would show a trooper’s helmet with different designs applied to them. There were also beautiful landscapes, and many different takes of the backyard’s deck view of the ocean, from early morning yellows to late sunset’s reds and pinks.

It had been over six months ever since his arrival, and Echo was very proud of his paintings; he’d just learned how to paint with both hands simultaneously, even mirroring their moves, which made Fives say jokingly “ah, yes, you’re echoing the lines, eh?”. Right now, however, he wasn’t painting. Instead, he was gazing at the crashing tides as the setting sun glimmered over the waters. He was very skilled in using his prosthetics now, and on some level he had even began to accept them as part of him.

Fives stood by his side, and the two of them had been sharing as many words as they’d also share these small silent moments lately. Echo let out a sigh. Fives ran his fingers over his temple; he didn’t need to draw the number there anymore, for Echo would recognize him now. Echo had also grown very fond of Dogma – of course he did, Fives had thought, he was the same kind of rule obsessed freak. Back in the day these two would've driven him crazy.

“I hated you, Rex and the 501st for the longest time after they captured me.”

Fives hesitated without looking away from the ocean, and he nodded.

“I understand. I would too.”

“Kept asking myself ‘how could he do it?’, ‘how could he leave me behind?’” Echo hesitated, tugging on the collar of his blacks and shuddering at the cold afternoon “And Fives, you know that I don’t blame you, or Rex, or the General or anybody else, but if you can please just let me talk some nonsense shit because I have to get it off my chest…”

Fives nodded repeatedly.

“Say it. Say it all.”

Echo swallowed hard, looking up to the sky.

“I kriffing hated you. You left me for dead. You left me bleeding and burning and mutilated… Did you know the blast got both my right arm and leg, and the left one was… Was crushed to shit? Just… Just there was nothing to be salvaged, all gone.” Echo’s breathing grew more rapid, and he pressed his lips together “I woke up to see Grievous’ face, that madman monster was all giddy with the idea of plugging my head to a machine. They placed these” he gestured to his legs and waved his arm around “without anesthesia, juist… just…”

Fives didn’t let his emotions meet his face, but his hands were squeezing the rail so hard he thought he could dent it. Fucking monsters. Sick psychopaths. Why would they do this to a clone? Why put him through this? Echo swallowed again.

“I screamed myself hoarse, wetted myself, cried my eyes out. Begged for death more times than I could count. And I hated you and Rex for leaving me behind.”

“Echo…”

“It’s not your fault and we both know it.” Echo frowned and looked down as if he were angry with himself “I just… Just needed to say this. I’m sorry.”

There was silence between the men for a moment, and Fives sighed.

“I hated you too.” He confessed “Stupidest thing, I… got angry at you for dying. For leaving me behind. For not following orders and getting in that shuttle and when I realized I couldn’t be angry at you I got angry at myself and…”

Echo placed his hand on Fives’ shoulder.

“I know. I know.” he made a pause, turning to face Fives “Kix said we have to work on that, says it’s normal for us soldiers to blame ourselves over this kind of thing. He said he saw a lot of it in the troopers after a battle on a planet of the Outer Rim, one you took part in.”

“Umbara.”

“Yeah.” Echo agreed “Kix told me something about Dogma and this Umbara place. What happened there.”

Fives was going to answer when he thought he’d heard a scream form inside the house. He frowned at Echo.

“Did you hear…?”

Then it came louder. Dogma’s voice. Fives rushed inside while Echo followed as fast as he could. Fives slammed the door open, his eyes darting through the house.

“Dogma?!” he barked out

“Here!” came Dogma’s voice from the bathroom “Help me!”

Fives turned the knob, but the door was locked.

“Dogma, open up, it’s locked!”

Dogma didn’t answer. Fives took two steps back and threw himself against the door, putting all his weight on his shoulder. The door didn’t move. Fives repeated the move one more time and the thing gave way, swinging open.

“Dogma!”

Dogma was sitting in the middle of the tile floor holding his left forearm close to his chest. It was covered in blood that dripped on the floor from his elbow. The man raised his face to Fives and he could see how pale he was. Fives crouched beside him, pushing him roughly by his shoulder.

“Lie down, lie down!” he looked at the bleeding cut right in the middle of his forearm and screamed to the top of his lungs “Echo, get me some bandages from my dresser, GET ME BANDAGES NOW!”

Dogma’s eyes were looking everywhere, just floating lost in his orbits, and Fives slapped his face softly.

“Hey, hey you stay with me now.” He pressed the fold of Dogma’s elbow to slow down his blood flow, and Dogma grunted in pain “Yeah, well, you fucked up bad, man.” Fives didn’t even understand what he was saying, but he kept running with it “What the hell were you thinking? Wanna join Hardcase, is that it?”

“Miscalculated.” Dogma groaned weakly “Went too deep. Didn’t mean to.”

Echo walked in with the first aid kit in hands and he stopped for less than a millisecond on the doorframe looking at the blood that ran under Fives’ hand pressed against Dogma’s forearm before he knelt down on his whirring legs and opened the case beside Fives.

“Get to the wound, I’ll hold his flow.”

“Can you press it hard?” Fives asked, and Echo pushed his hand out of the way with his prosthetic one, taking its place

“Yeah. This thing can be pretty relentless.” Fives didn’t argue any further, pressing a the wound still as he began to roll the cloth bandages around Dogma’s forearm; Echo raised his eyebrows “Hey there, Dogma. Thought Kix had said something about using your Bes’bev only to play music. Did it slip off your hand and landed on your arm?”

As weak as he was, Dogma still managed to spit a curse at Echo.

“Eh, he’ll be fine.” Fives said, twisting his lips as he’d place layer over bloody layer over his wound

The senseless humor being thrown at each other during times of stress was still part of who they were. Soldiers had to know how to laugh in the face of death. Fives had gotten specially good at it. He needed to, otherwise he’d lose his mind.

The bleeding stopped after a little while, and Echo let go of his elbow. Dogma’s breathing was still harsh and Fives sighed. _It’s gonna take a while for us to mend our wounds for good_ , he thought, _that is, if we ever do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicide attempt too, although Dogma wasn't actually attempting it.


	4. What If We Can Move On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Echo helps Dogma back on his feet and Fives' struggles to understand his pain. The three brothers see how they can help each other back on their feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings for cutting, blood and a lot of angst with a somehow hopeful ending.

Echo dismissed Fives’ help for the third time as he carried the buckets of blue milk out of the small barn outside.

“I said I can manage. And I will mock you for the rest of my days, great ARC trooper Fives, almost kicked in the face by an angry bantha.”

Fives followed him close, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Ah, shut up already. She’s moody today.”

“’She’?” Echo laughed “Please tell me you gave it a name. We can name it after someone you hate just for fun. Maybe that kaminoan ge'hutuun who tried to screw you over, Nala Se.”

Fives held the door open for Echo, shaking his dead.

“Nah, I don’t wanna offend the bantha. And when did you get so foul-mouthed, mr. stick-to-the-rules?”

“Ah, when you’re under the power of the seppies you learn to curse a lot.” Echo said as he poured the milk from the buckets into clear glass bottles that were lined up on the sink “Now I don’t even bat an eye at that. Remember when I’d tell you guys not to curse and Droidbait would curse louder just out of spite?”

Fives smirked as he picked up the filled up bottles and put them in the fridge.

“Oh, look at that, my boy’s all grown up. Hevy would be so proud of ya.”

“Hevy cursed like a jet pilot, don’t even compare me to him. Now where’s Dogma?”

Fives shrugged.

“Same as always.”

* * *

 

Dogma had learned of a steep path down the cliff in which they lived. It wouldn’t be easy for a man without training to climb it down, but Dogma was the best of his squad back in his days as a cadet; he’d climb the rocky path easily, supporting one foot after the other and holding on the protruding rocks on the face of the cliff until he could get down to a small cave in it. There he used to sit for hours listening to the crashing waves, or fish so they could have something different from the same steamed vegetables of every day. Somehow, very slowly, he’d grown to accept his new life as not a trooper or a prisoner but something else entirely. He wasn’t a deserter, but he didn’t leave exactly under an honored condition. The whole thing was really strange.

Dogma stuck his fishing rod firmly in a hole so that it would have its line out of the cave and the hook in the water and he reached for the bes’bev in his bag – he had promised Fives that he would use it only to play music, so the former ARC trooper let him keep it. Dogma tugged at his sleeve, exposing his scarred arm. The linear scars were methodically parallel, equidistant of each other. Even his self-harm had method; boring old Dogma.

He put the sharp tip of his bes’bev against his forearm and let out a sigh. He’d promised Fives and Echo that he would stop hurting himself. The thought of cutting was pleasant; it allowed him to see his blood, his trooper’s blood, his heritage, his worth. The pain would smother all the loud chatter in his head, all the giggling that would halt at his presence “here comes Dogma” they would say, the cadets hated his properness and respect for the rules, they would hate ass-kissing Dogma and all his protocol shit.

The pain would make the thought of him shooting at the boys of the 212th back in Umbara blur away at least for a while, it would make him forget of General Krell’s yellow, menacing eyes as he laughed in his face at his blind obedience because it wasn’t fair, he was just a shiny, it had been his first assignment and he just wanted them to be proud of him, he just wanted to be a good soldier…

Dogma grunted and looked down at the crooked, non-linear cut he’d unconsciously made and he hissed, pulling the bes’bev away from his arm.

“No, no, no.” he whispered, raising his arm to his face and sucking the blood off the wound before it could stain his blacks; he lowered it down again, glad to see it was coagulating already “I didn’t mean to, didn’t mean, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, sergeant ...”

After they found out that Krell had pitted the 501st against the 212th, Dogma walked between his brothers, dead and wounded, following the trail of death left in the range of his aim. Dogma was good at shooting, he’d train every day without exception in the shooting range. The result of his skill was there on the battlefield, lying all around him coughing blood and clutching at still-hot blaster wounds. And as he walked to the spot where the last target he’d hit had been, he saw Captain Rex talking to the mortally wounded Sergeant Waxer of the 212th, crying in his last breath. He didn’t make it, as Dogma knew he wouldn’t. He never shot to leave survivors. It was how he’d been taught.

Dogma only came back home by nightfall when his comlink rang and Fives’ voice came through it asking where he was. When he walked inside carrying two big fish in a fabric bag Fives smiled from the table where he’d been playing dejarik with Echo. Echo still won just like every time.

“Hey man. Took you long down there.”

“Fish weren’t biting.” Dogma grumbled, placing the fish on the sink and reaching for their meat knife

“Hey, let me do the cleaning, will you?” Fives asked as he jumped off his seat and walked into the kitchen, snatching the knife off Dogma’s hand; they’d treat him like a goddamn child around any sharp object “See if you can beat Echo, I can’t stand his smug face anymore.”

“It’s just strategy, brother.” Echo said in a joyful tune “Gotta think before you act.”

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” Fives asked jokingly as Dogma left the kitchen and Fives  began skinning the fish “I won’t mind kicking your ass like I used to back in the day.”

“Are you willing to kick the cripple’s ass?” Echo pretended to be mortified “Shameful, Fives, I expected better from you.”

Dogma sank to his seat in front of Echo, and as Fives hummed in the kitchen getting their dinner ready, Echo leaned in, resetting the hologram setting and saying in a low voice:

“Okay, what happened, Dogma? Why did you cut yourself again?”

Dogma straightened himself up, his tone defensive.

“I didn’t! Why do you…?”

Echo nodded to his backpack by the door, from which the instrument’s tip poked out.

“The tip’s stained dark.” he said and Dogma sighed “Now we gotta restart the counting. You had been clean for a week and a half, Dogma, you were doing so good.”

Dogma snarled, making the first movement in the game and maintaining his low tone.

“Yeah, thanks, I don’t really need you to tell me I’m an embarrassing di’kut.”

Echo analyzed his strategy, making a countermove.

“I never said that. We’ll restart the counting and keep it up. Before you know, it’ll be a month, two, a year and the scars will fade. I promise. Gar shuk meh kyrayc. Take it easy. I have an idea we can try after we eat.”

Dogma played his turn, shrugging.

“Whatever you say, sir.”

Echo played his, laughing bitterly.

“Lose the ‘sir’. We’re brothers.”

“Yessir.” Dogma paused, frowning “Yes, Echo. And unless your mnook beats my ng’ok…” he watched as his small holographic creature bashed Echo’s creature’s skull in “Ah, look. I won.”

Echo mouth dropped open in shock.

“ _Haar'chak_.” He whispered the curse, squinting at the holograms “How can this be?”

Fives waked out of the kitchen as the smell of food filled the house warmed by the stove’s heat, and he practically skipped like a kid to Echo’s side, looking at the table.

“He won?”  he looked up to Dogma “You won?! _Kandosii_ , give five to good ol’ Fives!” he slapped his palm on Dogma’s and then pointed at Echo “Ha! You lost! Loser! _K'atini!”_

Echo got up, mildly annoyed.

“Glad to see you’re sill eight. I’ll keep an eye on those potatoes before you overcook them.”

“Hey I’m not eight, I’m _Fives!_ ” Fives laughed himself brathless until he had  coughing fit at the stupid pun “And you know what you are? A loser!”

Even Dogma couldn’t help but laugh at Fives state of absolute joy over his victory.

* * *

 

Dogma tugged at the cuffs of his blacks as he’d sit on the floor of Echo’s atelier. Fives looked with curious interest as Echo sat beside him and Dogma, placing his watercolor palette, a water glass and a few of his brushes on the floor in front of them.

“…So, what are we doing here?” Fives asked tentatively

Echo looked calm and diplomatic as General Kenobi, Fives had thought.

“Dogma here has something to show us. Dogma?”

Dogma hesitated, looking at Echo.

“It was nothing…”

Echo narrowed his eyes at Dogma, and now he looked more like General Skywalker.

“Show him. You said you wanted to let me help.”

Dogma looked at Fives, then back at Echo and he swallowed hard, grimacing. He rolled his sleeve up, looking away from his brothers as he’d show them his scarred arm and the freshly-healed superficial cut. Fives ran his hand over his beard, snarling.

“Ah, _shabuir_ … You’re doing this shit again?!”

“It was an accident…!” Dogma started defensively

“Accident?! You want me to believe this shit?! Want me to patch you up next time you slice an artery open and your arm gushes blood everywhere?!”

Echo gave Fives a light push to his chest.

“Fives, will you calm down?”

Fives ground his teeth, getting up to his feet. Dogma did the same and, supporting his hands on his prosthetic knees, Echo did too. Fives growled out, pointing a finger to Dogma:

“I won’t calm down until this _or'dinii_ stop this shit before he winds up dead! Do you think this is funny?! Do you think this is the running gag in our little club, ‘ _let’s see if Dogma bled himself out with his stupid flute?!_ ’”

“Fives shut up NOW!” Echo barked as Dogma tried to walk away and he held him down in place by the neck of his shirt, pulling him back “and you, Dogma, stay here! We need to clear some things out, and it has to be now!”

Fives was still breathing hard, massaging his chest over his strained lungs as Dogma turned to face him.

“ _Rangir_.” Fives said in a lower tone that dripped with disgust “I’m doing my fucking best to make something out of this miserable rest of existence and this piece of shit…”

Echo exhaled sharply between his teeth, placing his hands on his hips.

“Fives, stars be my witness, one more word and I will deck you in the face.”

Fives let out an agry, aggressive laugh.

“Did he tell you he leaded a firing squad to execute me and Jesse in Umbara? I never told you this part, did I Echo, that turncoat _dinii_ general gave orders to execute us as traitors for going against his orders. Guess who stood in front of us and dare to ask if we wanted to be blindfolded?! Guess who looked us dead in the eye and yelled ‘fire’?! Guess who would’ve laid his tattooed head on the pillow and sleep just fine knowing he’d executed his brothers?!”

Dogma had his eyes low to the floor, and Fives walked to him, pushing him on the chest.

“And I’m just standing here today because Tup and Kix and my brothers refused to shoot me. Even Rex was disgusted at you, Dogma, and he gave you a chance to start over, we all did, and this is how you repay him, playing ‘how deep can I cut before I kill myself’.”

“Fives, cut this crap now!” Echo tried to stand between the two of them, but Fives blocked him with his arm

Dogma was biting his lip so hard it had gone white. He was used to bullying ever since he’d beat his cadet training in ARC trooper time and became the laughing stock of his brothers, stuck-up Dogma, the _sheb'urcyin_ ass-kisser. But just like when Krell laughed at him for trusting his orders, Dogma had a breaking point. And when he drove a tension-loaded fist to Fives’ face, nothing could’ve prepared the former ARC trooper.

When the two brothers dropped down in a mess of punches and angry snarling, Echo somehow managed to shove his blunt prosthetic arm between them, elbowing Dogma in the ribs with his flesh arm and pushing Fives down on the ground with the other one.

“Stop it. Stop this shit now!” Dogma rolled to the side, coughing, and Fives did the same, wiping the blood off his lips. Echo helped Dogma sit up. “Fives, if you open your mouth one more time, I’m gonna lock you out, you hear me?”

Fives spat blood on the floor, cursing. Echo helped him sit up too, rubbing his forehead to then run his hand over his buzz cut hair and reached for his watercolor palette and a brush.

“Okay, we’ll pretend all this ridiculous display didn’t happen and that we are all grown men trying to help each other.” At that, Dogma rubbed a red mark over his cheekbone and Fives picked at one of his teeth to see if it was still rooted in place. Echo sighed. “Now Dogma, lend me your arm. Can I hold it for a moment?”

Dogma hesitated, still rubbing his face to then slowly lower his arm. Echo held his wrist to then wet the paintbrush in the water, running it over some light blue paint and painting a thin line over Dogma’s scarred forearm. Dogma flinched at the cold sensation of the paint on his skin.

“What are you doing?”

Echo shrugged, painting a twin line beside the first one.

“No idea. Painting is relaxing for me, so I thought it could be relaxing for you. Y’know, I made the custom painting of my armor after our mission in the Rishi Moon outpost, Fives’ too. I made him an awesome Z-6 blaster cannon on his shoulder pads.”

Fives was still licking the blood off his lips and looking at Echo and Dogma as if they were some alien species performing some sort of weird ritual.

“Yeah, brag all you want, but the Rishi Eel was my design.”

Echo offered Dogma his brush.

“Here, try it, the paint’s not toxic. Paint something over these scars.”

Dogma hesitated.

“I… I can’t draw for shit, Echo.”

“Doesn’t matter, just slather some color over this, have fun.” He held the brush out to Dogma again “Go on.”

Dogma knitted his brows to then pick up the brush, cleaning it in the water.

“Can I use these?” he pointed at the palette

“Knock youself out.”

Dogma ran the bristles over the purple paint and Dogma turned to Fives.

“The only positive thing about your Rishi Eel was its symmetry.”

Fives scoffed.

“Do I sense jealousy, brother?”

“You sense artistic sensibility, smartass.”

“Ah, real mature… Holy shit.”

Fives leaned over to look at the purple organic, curved lines that Dogma now detailed with red tips; it was clearly a representation of the weird flora they’d encountered in Umbara, among which they would also find vixus, a nasty tentacle-wielding creature that could eat up a whole trooper in one go.

“‘Can’t draw for shit’, yeah right.” Fives said in annoyed awe, “you could’ve stolen Tup’s place as the 501st tattoo artist.”

He clenched his teeth at that. Shit. Fuck. Talking about Tup still hurt like hell.

Dogma placed the paintbrush down, looking at the stunning art piece in his arm.

“So what?” he asked Echo “When I shower, it’ll all come out. What’s the point?”

Echo tapped a finger to his lips pensively. Well, he had a point. At that, Fives sighed, scratching his beard.

“Whatever, draw another. Just… Just play with the paint, draw something on your arm, draw skywalker’s annoying droid if you must, that one that used to drive commander Wolffe crazy. Just…” he sighed “If you get your bes’bev and you think about cutting your arm, get a brush instead, okay? Can you do that?”

Dogma looked at Fives with surprise in his eyes, and then he nodded.

“Yeah… I can do that.”

Fives got up to his feet, stretching his arms to then crack his knuckles.

“Good, great. Now, I smell overcooked potatoes and I’m blaming this all on you, Echo.”

Echo got up to his feet surprisingly fast.

“Ah, damn it!” he bolted out of the room, dashing into the kitchen to save their dinner

Fives laughed softly, walking out of the room and, turning to look at Dogma who still admired the art on his arm like he’d never seen it before.

“Hey Dogma.” Dogma looked to him “About Tup… I’ll tell you all about what happened to him. Just… Just give me some time, okay?”

Dogma looked surprised once again, and once again he nodded.

* * *

 

When the three men sat at the table, Fives looked at Echo’s prosthetic hand that he’d use to cut him a nice chunk of baked fish and steamed potatoes with easy, perfect movements, so different from the clumsy man unused to his prosthetics; he then turned to look at Dogma, who had dug up a bottle of a good wine brought by Rex on his first visit there when he’d brought him Fives, and that they’d keep for special occasions. Dogma raised his glass to Fives and the clone toasted along Dogma and Echo, taking a sip.

Later that night as they’d drink their third glass of wine, Fives started to think out loud.

“We’re born in Kamino but we’re not Kaminoans” he said a little tipsily

“Thank the stars, we’re prettier than those necky _jiriads!”_ Echo laughed, and Fives laughed too, already used to how much more susceptible to alcohol he was

“Shh, let the man talk.” even Dogma was giggling, putting his glass down

“Like I was saying.” Fives cleared his throat, still smiling “We are born in Kamino but we are not Kaminoans. We have Mandalorian blood, we wear their garments, we speak their tongue but we are also not Mandalorian. We belong to the Republic, but we fight alongside the Jedi. It’s kind of hard to know where we belong. It’s…” the smile in his lips faded away “It’s easy to feel lost.”

At that Echo and Dogma grimaced a little too but Fives sighed, smiling more softly now.

“I… I could feel really lost out here, away from my mission and from everything I’ve ever known, after their betrayal, after everything. But with you guys by my side, I think I’ll survive this mess. I think we all will.”

Echo smiled back at Fives, reaching his flesh hand to him.

“I couldn’t have said it better, vod.”

Fives grabbed his hand and glanced at Dogma.

“you too, baby brother, c’m’ere.”

Dogma smirked, grabbing onto Fives’ and Echo’s hand, his beautifully painted arm exposed.

“Yeah, we’re gonna make it.” he said “We’ll be fine.”

 _We will_ , Fives had thought as his chest stopped feeling tight for the first time since he’d been shot back in Cosruscant and he drew in a blissfully deep breath. _We’ll be just fine._


End file.
